


tangled wires

by iron_spider



Series: holidays [1]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie) Spoilers, Gen, Precious Peter Parker, Tony Stark Has A Heart
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-20
Updated: 2018-06-20
Packaged: 2019-05-25 19:09:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,899
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14983661
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iron_spider/pseuds/iron_spider
Summary: Tony sits cross-legged on the floor of Peter’s living room, holding the offending string of lights in his hands. The whole room glows in psychedelic reds and greens, blinking manically in what Tony imagines the inside of Peter’s head looks like at all times. Peter himself is sitting on the floor across from him, a look of pure concentration on his face as he puts together a small snowman that jingles whenever he moves.“How did you do this?” Tony asks, finally, staring intently at the string of lights. “Why did this happen? Did May do this? Was she liquored up?”“So many questions,” Peter says, brows furrowed as he sticks the snowman’s arms in.“So little answers,” Tony says. The string of lights is completely tangled, in a way he’s never seen before. And he’s seen lots of tangles.





	tangled wires

Tony sits cross-legged on the floor of Peter’s living room, holding the offending string of lights in his hands. The whole room glows in psychedelic reds and greens, blinking manically in what Tony imagines the inside of Peter’s head looks like at all times. Peter himself is sitting on the floor across from him, a look of pure concentration on his face as he puts together a small snowman that jingles whenever he moves.

“How did you do this?” Tony asks, finally, staring intently at the string of lights. “Why did this happen? Did May do this? Was she liquored up?”

“So many questions,” Peter says, brows furrowed as he sticks the snowman’s arms in.

“So little answers,” Tony says. The string of lights is completely tangled, in a way he’s never seen before. And he’s seen lots of tangles. He’s taken apart rubber band balls. Old laces. Pepper’s old dance necklaces—although that took him a good two hours and seventeen mental breakdowns. He had to deal with almost this exact same situation for Clint, but that he eventually gave up on, solving the problem with a pair of scissors. He can’t do that to Peter.

“I’m usually the one to put the decorations away,” Peter says, putting a sparkly black top hat on the snowman’s head. “May doesn’t like it, you know. Killing the holiday.”

Tony tilts his head to the side and starts working, finding the plug and skimming the wire through his fingers. “Yeah, I get that. You remember how long I left the tree up last year.”

Peter finally looks up at him, and it’s a look of judgment. “Yeah that was…it was scary.”

“Added nice ambiance to St. Patrick’s Day.”

“I thought you were gonna leave it there forever.”

“I would have, if Pepper hadn’t taken it out herself,” Tony says, huffing, pulling the wire out from under two tight pieces. Peter laughs and Tony smiles, looking up at him. “When’s May get home?”

“We’ve got four hours,” Peter says. “Well, I—I mean, I have four hours, you don’t really have to—”

“Please,” Tony says. “As if you could decorate this place better than I could. You’ve seen how I do it up. You need me.”

Peter grins, and then he finishes off his snowman. “How’s he look?” Peter asks, holding him out, turning him from side to side. “This one’s new, I ordered him on Amazon.”

“Pretty spiffy,” Tony says. “That Frosty or an extended relative?”

“His brother Ellison,” Peter says. 

“That come from you or Amazon?”

“Me,” Peter says. “He’s a dapper man, needed a dapper name.”

“Can’t wait to see what you name your children,” Tony says. Peter doesn’t seem to hear him and he scrambles to his feet, padding over to the kitchen. The wire Tony has loose seems to be shortening, and he tries not to lose it.

“May always spikes our egg nog,” Peter calls, glasses knocking together somewhere Tony can’t see. 

“Sounds like a lie to me,” Tony says, narrowing his eyes.

“No, no—it’s a true!”

“Pete, let’s not,” Tony says, glancing over his shoulder. The tree he brought them sticks out a little into the room, and Peter brushes one of the longer branches when he heads back into the room. He’s holding two small glasses of eggnog, adorned with lights etched around the edges that are decidedly less tangled than the ones Tony is working on. Peter puts Tony’s glass down on the coffee table next to him and crashes down in his previous spot, quickly taking a gulp of his eggnog before Tony can say anything. Tony eyes him and takes a sip of his own, and nearly chokes.

“Good, huh?” Peter asks, grinning, an eggnog mustache clinging to his upper lip.

“How much rum did you dump into these?” Tony asks, his voice pinched.

“None,” Peter says, taking another big sip.

“Yeah right, and I’m Santa Claus.”

“You do have a Santa suit.”

“I was just trying to irritate Rogers, kid, it’s not like I appear in the Macy’s Day Parade, I’m not the real deal.”

Peter snorts, grabbing the wreath he’s been decorating and the hot glue. “The real deal.”

Tony gets a good portion of wire loose and continues to follow it through the mess. “Don’t knock the big man, Pete, you know what happens.”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I don’t know what was thinking,” Peter says, grabbing a small Santa figure and finding a place for him in the wreath. He looks up at Tony again, and gets that look in his eye. “Are you gonna be able to handle that? The room isn’t gonna come together without it.”

Tony scoffs, working a little faster. “Maybe if someone hadn’t created some kind of idiot’s game with their Christmas lights we wouldn’t be held up, here.”

“You calling yourself an idiot?”

“Calling you one,” Tony says, taking another sip of his obtusely alcoholic eggnog. “Jesus, I seriously hope you didn’t put as much rum in yours as you put in mine. May’s gonna tear me a new one.”

“I promise, she always spikes it!”

“A capful is different than five shots or whatever the hell is in here,” Tony says, smelling his eggnog and recoiling. He puts the glass back on the coffee table and continues with his work. He remembers outrageous Christmases in his youth. Covered in bells and whistles and everything he could have ever wanted except the things he really needed to begin with. He knows a child’s memories aren’t stitched together properly, that these clearly remembered thoughts might be a little off track, a little less or more than what actually happened. But he can see Howard’s eyes, as they looked right past him at everything else. No smile of his mattered, no thank you’s, no small gift he made that was better and more intricate than anyone else his age could make. He remembers the robot he’d named Harry and presented to his father on Christmas morning, which was quickly looked over with an irritated huff and a demand for more coffee, which Tony was positive was directed at him. It was the type of thing he expected, more and more as he got older.

He never felt like a son. More like an employee, when it came to his dad. 

Peter’s apartment is warm, which is a feat considering the bitter cold crackling outside the window. Tony had been planning on taking him out for dinner tonight, but Peter told him he wanted to get the place all dolled up for Christmas as a surprise while May was working late, and Tony had jumped on the opportunity to help him. So far they’ve got the lighted garland draped around the windows, which had taken lots of Peter showing off and walking all over the ceiling trying to hang the top tier. They put out the new red tablecloth, the little snowman figures on every other book shelf, and they’ve got the strands of lights on the tree, enough to make it look like a giant rocket ship. 

It feels like the kinds of Christmases he always wanted as a kid. It feels personal. Peter put on the _Muppet Christmas Carol_ soundtrack and _It’s A Wonderful Life_ is muted on the TV. He’s hidden peppermint everywhere and the smell of it teeters on overwhelming, but it reminds Tony of just how much heart Peter puts into everything. He’s wearing a stupid Reindeer sweater and he’s got antlers he’s supposed to put on before May gets home. There’s another sweater in Tony’s size draped across the back of the couch, which he hasn’t decided if he’s actually gonna wear yet. It’s very existence is evidence that Peter knew he was gonna volunteer to help as soon as he heard what Peter was up to, and it worries Tony a little bit how well this kid knows him. He’s tried, his whole life, to hold his cards close to his chest, and he never really imagined anyone other than the Pepper-Happy-Rhodey bubble figuring out what makes him tick. But Peter somehow burrowed his way into that bubble without bursting it, and made his place there. 

“I bought that penguin thing that glows and I don’t know where to put it,” Peter says, weaving a ribbon through the wreath.

“Window, probably,” Tony says. “And not in your room, it’ll keep you up all night.”

“It just glows, it doesn’t blink,” Peter says. “Might be like, nice. Might help me get to sleep easier.”

Tony’s eyes snap up at that, even though the tangle of wire is getting looser. “You still having a hard time?” he asks.

“Yeah,” Peter says, looking at him. He takes another sip of his eggnog and smiles crookedly. “It’s fine, it’s getting better.”

Tony narrows his eyes. “You think the penguin glowing would help you?”

Peter shrugs.

“You’re taking the melatonin right?” 

“Yeah,” Peter says. “I don’t know if it’s doing anything. Things are hard when you’re a mutated spider monster.”

Tony snorts. “You are the least monstery thing on this here planet.”

“I was thinking of getting a sound machine,” Peter says. “For at night.”

“That’s a great idea,” Tony says. “I used to have one but Pepper’s a pretty light sleeper.” The nightmares he has all the time don’t help, but he doesn’t need to mention that. He’s feeling pretty good right now. He doesn’t drink too much anymore and the buzz sits warm at the base of his skull and in the core of his chest, fliting around the nanotech housing unit. He keeps having the inclination to tap it, but then he’ll be sitting here cross-legged as Iron Man on Peter Parker’s floor.

He guesses stranger things have happened.

“What made you wanna do a surprise?” Tony asks, the whole wad of wire loosening. He’s getting close. “You didn’t do that last year.”

He shrugs. Tony knows it’s been hard since the whole disappearing act bullshit, and last Christmas was only six months after they brought everybody back to life. He thinks he’s answered his own question, and he feels like an idiot. 

“Ben and I used to do it,” Peter says, grabbing a small wrapped present figurine and starting to glue it into the wreath. “I mean, well—we did it like, three times. She loved it, and it’s been long enough ago that I think it’ll take her by surprise. I told her we were gonna hang out late so I don’t think she’ll even expect me to be home when she gets here.”

“Well, she’ll know when she sees that there hanging on the door,” Tony says, gesturing to the wreath. He absentmindedly picks at the wires, tugs at the bits that are still stuck, the little lights knocking together. His heart is beating faster—he never really questions his fatherly instincts towards Peter and how they manifest themselves, but now he’s worried he’s crossed some sort of line. He takes a big gulp of his eggnog, and is reminded again of how much goddamn rum is in there. “Pete, uh—you want me here, right? I guess I sorta invited myself over, but I don’t want to, uh—step on any traditions or—cherished memories—”

Peter just stares at him. “Uh—I absolutely want you here. I bought you a sweater. I tangled that wire there earlier today as an excuse.”

Tony’s jaw drops. “What?”

“What?”

“No—you—you did this? On purpose? Did I hear that correctly?”

“Yeah,” Peter says, like Tony should know better. “I wanted, like, something I supposedly couldn’t do and you’d come and do it no problem like _oh kid check me out I’m so cool what’s next_ and I didn’t know you’d bring a tree but it’s actually the most perfect tree and I probably wouldn’t have made it out on my own to get one, anyway—”

“Pause,” Tony says, holding out his hand. He feels tipsier than he should. “I’m still stuck on the image of you purposefully demolishing this strand of lights to trick me to come over here.”

“It’s actually three strands, you’ll find that out soon,” Peter says. 

“Dummy,” Tony emphasizes, squeezing his eyes shut and shaking his head. “You don’t have to—ball up a bunch of lights like a lunatic—I’ll hang out with you without all that. When are you gonna get that through your skull?”

“You’re busy!” Peter says, his voice going high. 

“Not busy enough for you,” Tony says, and he feels exasperated. Peter knows him well, really well, but he still doubts himself, which is depressing, but more annoying in this situation. “I feel like you should be required to undo the rest of this yourself.” He pushes it towards Peter and staggers to his feet, stretching, trying not to let the eggnog get to his head. “Any time you tell me you need my help with something I’m gonna question it now. Spiderman, is there really an alien sucking your brain out? Please shoot me a video and evidence of said brain to send to the lab, and then I might swing by.”

“Are you gonna wear your sweater?” Peter asks, and he quickly downs the rest of his drink.

Tony scowls at him. “Do you deserve for me to wear this sweater? That matches yours? When you doubted me so intensely that you essentially destroyed those Christmas lights?”

“They’re not destroyed,” Peter says, quickly pulling at the strand Tony had been working on, shaking the big grouping until it starts coming loose and straightening out. 

“You’re the worst,” Tony says, pointing down at him. Peter grins wide and Tony huffs, walking around the coffee table, grabbing the sweater off the couch. He tries not to get too emotional about the kid literally buying them matching sweaters to wear while they put up Christmas decorations, and he quickly pulls it over his head. He turns, holding his arms out, and briefly looks down at himself. It’s essentially the same as Peter’s, with a giant goofy looking reindeer stitched into the fabric, but its nose is glowing blue as opposed to the standard red, which Peter is sporting. 

“You look just as dorky as me,” Peter says, grinning.

“Impossible,” Tony says, letting his arms flop back down. “You are literally the ultimate dork.”

Peter beams at him like it’s a compliment and Tony has to admit, it is, because the kid is ridiculously endearing to just about everyone he encounters. 

“Oh, hey,” Peter says, looking past Tony towards the window. “Wow, it’s really coming down. You might just get snowed in here.” He gets up, walking over to look, and Tony follows him. 

“Hopefully you’ve got plenty of fruitcake in the fridge to sustain us,” Tony says, close enough to the window that the chill is catching him through the sweater. 

“Gross, Mr. Stark,” Peter grimaces. “If that’s what you need to survive then we need to rethink a couple things.”

Tony snorts. “An acquired taste,” he says, watching the flakes dance in the air and cake everything on the ground. “I bet May likes ‘em.”

“She does. You’re both weird.” He looks off towards the bookcase and jumps a little bit, reaching for a small box. “Oh. I forgot about this.” He holds it out and Tony takes it, narrowing his eyes. He pulls the top off and there’s a tiny little red and gold robot in there, along with a remote control. His face looks a lot like the Iron Man faceplate, and he’s got wheels for feet and small little pincher type things for arms. “I made him in school, I thought he was pretty cute. He’ll map the area you put him in once he learns it and he can take commands. You, uh—you want him?”

Tony stares down at the tiny robot and feels like he’s finally done something right. He gets choked up and clears his throat obnoxiously, and Peter smiles. 

“Of course I do, look at him, he’s so…badass.”

“He is,” Peter says, looking out the window again. “Best in the class, if I do say so myself. His name is Jeffrey. Give him proper love and care. He can be friends with Dum-E.”

Tony laughs, hanging his head. He looks at him, trying not to cry or anything equally as embarrassing. “Thanks, kid,” he says, reaching around and tugging Peter into a one-armed hug.

“You’re welcome,” Peter says, smiling to himself. 

“Okay, back to work,” Tony says, holding the box with the robot in it close to his chest. He claps Peter on the shoulder. “I gotta fix this crazy mess you made. That you didn’t even need to make in the first place…remember, for next time.” He points at Peter, and Peter snorts, nodding. Tony nods back and looks around at the living room. “I have a very specific vision for this space, what May’s gonna look like when she sets eyes on it. We’ve got lots to do.”

“I’m gonna order Chinese before they can’t make it out here anymore,” Peter says, pulling his phone out of his pocket.

“Smart,” Tony says. “Better than fruitcake.” He walks over and sits back down next to the jumble of lights, situating the robot next to his knee. He grins at it, and gets back to work.


End file.
